Beware of Slivers
by Razel.Korr
Summary: Random shorts inspired by things at Random. Most comedic, some speculative, all fun!
1. Read the Sign

From the shadow of emptiness, a wrinkle in space ignited violently, resolving the planeswalker's grinning demonic visage on sturdier ground than the space between spaces. The fiend's face flickered in the flames, a devilish grin brushing aside the fire as it evaporated from his newly constituent form. Soot clouded from the sides of his lips as he voiced his satisfaction.

"Brilliant…looks quiet and stocked…"

The building before him was imposing and unnaturally clean, probably holding a slew of riches. He descended the few short steps from the shrine he found himself sheltered by, whistling in an impressed tone to himself. The Manor loomed over him, two wings tracing a U-shaped path surrounding a courtyard on the roof of the first few levels. Décor glinted in the sporadic lighting, hints of gold and silver casting subdued flashes from the suspended torches providing illumination. A gunmetal torus was embedded in the main entrance, with no seam visible yet a pattern of frost suggesting its presence quite clearly. A bridge conveyed him from the steps across a pool of apathetic black void, glassy and still and flat as a razor. He found his attention drawn to a sign that had been hammered into the permafrost between the Manor and the Pool, a rough wooden warning scrawled in some unknown media.

"Be…Beware of…of what? What is that?"

The image was not one he was familiar with, a sinuous creature curled up like an unborn child. He paid the unsettling image no mind, setting foot onto the ice and trodding toward the door.

A low rumbling preceded the tunnel that erupted from the frost to his left. Immediately he placed himself on guard, turning reflexively and narrowing his eyes, a quiet chittering blending with the gentle rumble of the front door. As the manor crept open, the cascading frost revealed a disheveled occupant carting a steaming mug of something. Looking back to the hole that had emerged from the frozen ground, he recoiled in disgust as he watched it berth the sinuous thing that provided the noise, sounds of more sneaking up behind it as it drew closer. The very sight of it repulsed him, leaving an instinctive urge to squish it overtaking his senses as his disgust became obvious through his face.

The occupant merely took a sip.

Two more of the things slithered out, their presence inciting a ripple among their constituent forms. Cracking bone and whipping muscle spread through the things, while the 'walker could only suppress a gag and project a fireball into them. Flames seared them handily, their bodies withering and curling as worms in the sun. Their chittering intensified instead of quieting, three more squirming out of the aperture and slithering in his direction.

"No, no, keep your Gorram distance!"

His fingers spit lighting through them, chaining from body to body and carving holes through their flesh. Corpses fell upon corpses while more continued to seep from the hole, slipping over the fallen others and rippling as their morphology came into question.

The occupant took another sip.

Chattering creatures flowed at him, a large cluster of them rearing up to present quills. His response was succinct and explosive, removing the capability from their gene pool. Another led them in utilizing sudden wings, only to find itself perforated by electric death. A fireball here, a lightning bolt there, one or two would be picked off to make room for twelve more. A wave of meat surged for the fiend, their melodious evolution and their cacophonous vocalizations filling the air around him.

"SEE HOW YOU LIKE THIS!"

A surge of power radiated from his flesh as he pressed the things back through his will alone, searing away many of the drones and significantly thinning the numbers topside. Before the last had hit the floor, more had arrived to replace them. Endless bodies came at him, refusing any semblance of pity or awareness. Seizing a chance, he condensed his fury into the space they occupied, igniting them all simultaneously and wasting away what corpses remained in a whirlwind of ash. His breath came in ragged gasps, sputtering embers leaking out of his lips. Rumbling beneath his feet heralded something he knew better than to look forward to.

The occupant seemed to be unimpressed by his beverage.

Flames caught in the air around the demon, providing a basic level of physical defense. He ran past and over the hole, rolling into the ice and skidding just short of the cliff face. Raw nothingness surrounded the plot of land the building sat upon to offer literally no place to go. He spun around again, seeing more of the creatures clambering around the small hill while the occupant simply leaned against one of the pillars, sniffing his cup disdainfully.

"Alright, if you wanna play that way…"

His flames roared to vigorous life, shifting from vivid crimson to an azure blue. The first wave of bodies collapsed just short of him, unable to take the heat. Several more pulsed after them, encouraging an expeditious re-evaluation of his defenses. Flames failing him, he began to indiscriminately launch arcs of power into the sea of slavering watchdogs, his shocking assault only barely enough to keep the worst of them at bay. Their power overwhelmed him, collapsing atop his frame and trapping him under a blanket of meat.

The occupant placed a small spoon into the pool of dark nothingness, extracting a teaspoon of black void and stirring it into his drink.

A final flare evaporated the last of the creatures, the chittering dying away as the hole receded into the floor. The fiend chuckled weakly to himself, leaning heavily on his arm as he forced himself upright. A faint hint of delirium rung through his voice, punctuated by colorful sparks coming through his facial flames. He shambled at the occupant, half-dead and all confused.

"Wha…what are those things?"

The occupant smiled, raising his eyebrows in contentment and taking another sip as he ignored the interloper, taking a calm step towards him but offering to reply. Silence only served to break the infernal further.

"Who…are…you?"

The strange man smiled deviously from behind his mug, his voice thick with arrogance.

"I'm their owner."

A great shadow tore from the space behind the occupant, and as the dark figure loomed high, the fiend lost consciousness for the final time.


	2. Don't Try This At Home

Woodhouse fiddled with the device, his skeletal fingers turning knobs as he peered into the viewfinder. The recording device was old, but worked just as well as the day it was made – in an overly complicated way.

"Are we framed and rolling? Good."

Razel cleared his throat, the khaki outfit strapped close to him beneath the pith helmet. He glanced over his shoulder, looking across the gorge to the host of feathers gathered in a circle. The mass of angels was blissfully unaware of him, going about their business and doing whatever it was angels did when not serving. A smile and a nod told him to begin.

"Today, on the Monster Stalker, we're going to get up-close and personal with a true _beauty_ of the magical world – the _Angel_."

Taking Woodhouse's wrist, Razel warped them closer, but still safely out of sight. A few checked dials and a thumbs-up.

"Angels are one of the few great hybrids around, often created rather than bred. This particular host is on a pilgrimage, holding some kind of ritual. Crikey…look at those wingspans."

Panning to look over the host, Woodhouse framed their goings-on and zoomed for effect, scanning as Razel voiced over the shot.

"Now, this is where I warn you not to try what I'm about to do at home. Angels are a fierce thing, and more often than not, they'll either beat you right bloody or call some friends. Remember, I'm a trained professional."

A tap on Woodhouse's back shunted the two of them to the top of a stone spire, closer but higher.. Woodhouse focused on Razel's face, inching closer.

"With that being said, I'm going to attempt something many folks tell me is not worth it – the hundred-halo challenge. I won't bother explaining, you'll figure it out."

Leaning to the side and verifying his cameraman's readiness, Razel smiled and placed a hand on the House Guard.

"It's show time."

With a thunderous glacial _crack_, the two of them appeared in the center of the heavenly host. Silence consumed the Angels as they all spun to face the interlopers, a brief moment of confusion pausing the lot. Striding towards the closet one, Razel flexed his fingers and the creature started to speak.

"Who-"

His hand shot out from his inhuman leap, taking the thing by the halo and wrenching it free, calling a scream out of the neutered celestial and a sudden flurry of action. Swords ignited from the air, wings beat, and voices cried out as they all rushed the interloper in the middle. A swipe above his head brought the next close enough to de-halo, the next slash at his side telling him to turn and grab, pulling loose his third. Those who lost their divine antennas shrieked and wailed like blind men exposed to nuclear fire, clutching their heads and writhing on the ground. A handful of loops slid up his arms like bracelets.

Some began to flee, seeking assistance elsewhere. Woodhouse stayed back, catching the whole scene as it unfolded. Two angels dove from above, twirling around each other and pointing with menace. Razel extended his hand at the two, rending their limbs from their bodies and snatching their halos as they crashed beside him. A lucky stroke cut into his back, drawing an impulsive spin and point, the offending individual instantaneously turning a brilliant gold, freezing in place even as the mage leapt over it and took the ring with him.

One dove for Woodhouse, blade flashing in front of the lens as the skeleton backpedaled to get a better view of its assailant. Snarling and screaming it shot for him, cut short by Razel's hand catching the back of the Halo and wrenching it to the floor. The urge to sink them all within a singularity of flesh was growing, but the challenge was nothing without voluntary compliance.

Taking advantage of a brief lapse in attackers, the mage slid his rings onto his legs, freeing his arms for the second half. Looking ridiculous but minding none at all, Razel focused himself and stared down the avengers swooping down on him.

Ducking, bending, rolling and sliding away from the steel sweeping through the places he had just been, he toyed with them, catching one blade and grasping the thing by its wrist, spinning and slamming it into the rest of them with repeated vigor. Knocking a few more out of the air before discarding the broken body and collecting the halos, he took a quick tally as well as an arrow to the shoulder. The shaft slipped easily through him, more annoying and alerting him than anything else. Thunder once more rung out as he stepped between spaces and popped up behind the archer, grasping both sides of their headpiece and twisting it around completely before removing the ring.

Within minutes the commandeered jewelry was weighing him down noticeably, another host closing in. The metal served well as an impromptu shield, stopping its share of blades. Following a particularly rhythmic bout with an older, silver-feathered archangel, he counted one last time and smiled at the swarm drawing near.

Warping into the middle of their flight, the cloud scrambled to gain his bearings, failing before he could snag the hundredth halo and throw its prior owner to the ground. A step between spaces slipped him to the ground once more, below the host.

His hand rose, two fingers emitting a ray of shadow which struck the air in the center of their flock. A sphere of darkness emerged, growing and drawing them closer, spinning them around and around until they blurred into a single individual, then slamming them to a sudden and abrupt stop before sucking their conglomerate meat into the confined space, seeping streams of gore as they grew closer to each other.

Turning to the camera, Razel looked over the halos and smiled, giving the recording a thumbs-up.

"Remember – Every hundred rings gives you another life!"


	3. DBP

Razorgrass clinked in the breeze, stiff steel blades playing across the fields. A lone pair of porcelain priests strode through the flora, their passage made easier through some unseen parting of the plants at their feet. Their décor reflected the several suns dully, plates and parts wrought haphazardly across their visible musculature. Sharp angles and harsh edges indicated their allegiance to the church of the machines, New Phyrexia's current best stead for leadership. Their conversation seemed banal, even as their voices scraped from repurposed vocal cords.

"_Such a waste of talent. A job for a Souleater, not a member of the Orthodox proper._"

"_Opinions are immaterial. She has requested us personally for this. There is danger in that._"

"_What danger? Ambition is only made easier by the unwitting compliance of those you aim to replace. Her edict assists us more than it will affect us."_

Their goal eased into view over the hill, a roughspun hovel of razorgrass woven with drunken care. Alcohol hung in the air, a noticeable undertone to the constant whiff of oil which inundated the plane. No door had been built, instead an unrecognizable skin draped from the aperture to provide privacy to its occupant. Pointed porcelain claws pulled the hide aside, both priests slipping into the surprisingly spacious abode.

Sleeping in the corner they spied its owner. His rough and ragged robes were filthy and odiferous, while his ramshackle pile of jugs offered an obvious source for the alcoholic tang. He mumbled something and rolled over, his shaggy hair thick with grease and clumping in odd ways. His hand clutched a darksteel flask, tightly closed and held with care close to his heart.

"_This is it? THIS is the interloper we are sent to repurpose?_"

His cohort kicked dirt at the derelict, who made no indication of consciousness.

"_Whatever. Let's just get this over with._"

With a nod and a flick of the wrist, the priest extended shards of bone from his hand, stepping menacingly towards his prey. Shuffling surprisingly fast to his feet, the individual backed away from the two, pressing precariously into the woven wall behind him.

"BACK OFF, CHUMPS! I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING! I DIDN'T DO IT! IT'S ALL CIRCUMSTANTIAL! YOU HAVE NO PROOF!"

"_He speaks our tongue without using our words…"_

_"He is an abomination."_

"STOP TALKING ABOUT ME!"

His hands pushed them back without touching them, throwing the pair through the wall and into the dust. Razorgrass billowed away from the ruined structure, the Occupant still wobbling in the back of the hovel.

"_WHAT WAS THAT?"_

_"WE NEED TO KILL HIM NOW. STOP STALLING."_

Spurs shot from the Priest's hand, shards of bone streaking at the dirty 'walker. They sunk seemingly harmlessly into his flesh, tearing the robe further but otherwise only eliciting incoherent rambling.

"I DON'T KNOW NOTHIN' 'BOUT NO WALLS OR NO GNOMES MADE OF MEAT I DIDN'T DO NONE'A THAT-"

"_WHY WON'T HE SHUT UP?"_

The second Priest called the loose leaves of razorgrass to his aid, swirling the glinting steel flora into a whirlwind of blades. His points were made very clear as the spikes shot through his foe, causing visible damage but still eliciting nothing but panic.

"OW! OW! YOU WANNA SPEAR FOLKS? FINE! GET OVER HERE!"

Pulling a grappling hook from seemingly nowhere, he blindingly spun the chain and lodged its hook into the closer priest's spine, wrenching him forward and grasping his head with an enlarged fist before crushing it like an overcooked slice of bread.

"_WHAT THE FU-"_

"C'MERE!"

As his neck collapsed under the crushing grip of the metal links, he found only confusion in the sudden and complete ending of his ambitions.


	4. Relics

Shadows danced across the skylight, casting streaks of darkness across the displays below. The Gallery was built to exhibit artifacts of a curious and otherworldly nature, housed and curated by local nobility. A hinge creaked into the unoccupied hall, berthing two individuals into the room from above. The male stood and looked around curiously, eying the relics with interest, while the female seemed irritated with being there at all.

"Why are we in a Museum?"

He snooped a nearby panel, squinting to make out the fine details.

"One of the objects here shows him directly. I want to deface it."

She rolled her eyes.

"What will this achieve?"

He shrugged at her, unsure himself.

"Ridicule. Loss of respect should he show again. Personal satisfaction."

He began to creep along the cases, the woman blithely looking at the items as they passed while the male actively read the labels, as well as any visible text.

"We're definitely in the right wing. These are labeled 'Potential Contacts', even if some of them are self-identified as fiction. Not many, just this one here," he gestured to a scroll mounted on a rack,"- and the statue over there, which I think is a theatre prop."

"Never one to waste your translational talents."

"Don't hate it 'cause you lack it."

"I could get an enchantment for that too if I wanted. No need though, with you around."

She flashed him a toothy smile, fangs glittering in the moonlight. He ignored her and kept on, leading them into a rotunda focusing on a massive bas-relief along the far wall, an Elder Dragon standing tall over many subjects, all bowing to his radiance atop a ziggurat of words. The male reached out to place a hand on it, reading a selection for his companion.

"As he demonstrated the sublime skill of subjugation, the great dragon taught us the value in servitude and silence."

The woman raised an eyebrow and looked at the armored serpent, thoroughly unimpressed.

"Sounds like a dick."

"Not gonna argue that. Can you give me a hand here? Maybe raise me up to about his shoulder level?"

She was visibly unimpressed.

"…you're a planeswalker. Can't you levitate yourself?"

He frowned heavily to her.

"I am terrible at flight and levitation is a basis of that. I need to focus on the engraving to ensure it is legible to all who read it, and if I need to focus on keeping myself aloft, it'll look…well, still legible, but intoxicated."

"…and?"

He glared at her for a moment, mumbling a mantra under his breath as he slowly rose to the desired height, wobbling for a second as he reached out with two fingers to mark the slab. A few minutes of work and he dropped to the floor, torn between a smile and irritation. His companion kept her eyebrow high, unsure of what she was seeing.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. And I know it looks like a child did it, but at least it's readable."

"Are you sure that's what you want it to say?"

"I never said I was mature about my dealings."

=][=

The Duke led his guests through the halls, explaining the varying items in his collection.

"Here we have a statue of another one of these 'World-walkers', presumably related to the sculptor after the fact. I have it in here because of its resemblance to some of the imagery in my tome."

The gathered nobility tittered amongst themselves, impressed by their comrade's achievements. He turned to face them, walking backwards to lead them into the rotunda as he explained the jewel of his collection.

"And in this room, I keep the most significant piece I have regarding my theory. A depiction not only of one of the World-Walkers themselves, but _documented interaction_ with them. I have reason to believe that the great Dragon Ol'as did, in fact, exist-"

"…and he liked rear ends?"

The Duke stopped and blinked. Chuckling began to spread from guest to guest, until he finally turned and saw what the fuss was all about.

A cartoonish bubble had been etched into the stone beside the Dragon's head, infantile writing fuzzy but blatantly intelligible beside it. There was no mistaking what it said.

_'I sniff butts'_


	5. UnDrank

"NOCK!"

At the raise of his sabre, the monarch's countless archers drew their bolts, raising them high as their strings tuned together.

"DRAW!"

Squealing twine echoed down the line, a row of men from cliff to cliff cutting off any hope of escape from the ravine. The City fortified beyond the barren field glowed mockingly from across the way. The archers pulled as far as they could, angling for maximum distance.

"LOOSE!"

Staccato twangs throw the cloud of arrows deep into the field, none passing higher than the foot of the City's impenetrable walls. Holes gouged in the sheer rock prevented them from advancing further, lest they be picked off from above. Buried in the corner, it proved a worthy adversary.

This only irritated King Erald.

First they had tried to send an emissary, only to render him a pincushion. Siege engines met ballista bolts, Towers met flaming arrows, and the white flag was allowed to reach the gate only to be covered in boiling tar. After the momentum he had found from capturing that realm-walker, the ruler now saw only walls and corners, obstacles all. This siege had dragged on for entirely too long – twice he needed a shave since he had arrived, and twice he cursed his enemies in his mirror.

"This city will be mine. By hook or by crook, it will."

The city itself meant little, while the tomb it protected meant more. More than religious dominance was at stake, however – if rumors were to be believed, rituals of resurrection were being prepared for some profane purpose, potentially forcing a returned savior to choose, or worse, proving that he never was. The King could not let it happen. Ignorance was the only way to maintain any harmony in his kingdom, and this was knowledge they had lost for a reason. It was worth any price to obtain…or prevent.

His highness turned from the box canyon in frustration, trotting back to his camp irritably and throwing the curtain to his tent aside. His table was buried beneath leafs of plans, maps and messages haphazardly scattered about.

"I need…something…"

Somehow, he needed to get past their defenses, yet there was no way in his mind he could find that would keep his men alive. It didn't help that the fight with that Realm-Walker had ruined his…

_Wait…_

A whistle and a command sent a lackey from his quarters to the back of the encampment, a trio of guards returning with him, carrying a small cage glowing with a faint blue hue. Inside the cage a lean individual rested against the side, looking bored with his current situation. The guards set the cage down and stepped back, flanking the exit as one remained immediately behind the enclosure. The king looked to his captive with a serious expression, trying to hide any and all emotion for fear or exposing a conversational weakness.

"I need your help."

The 'walker raised an eyebrow, his voice measured and cold.

"And?"

Erald's royal scowl cracked in reply.

"I need you to put a hole in the wall protecting this city."

Disinterest was all the planeswalker could manage.

"Why can't you do it?"

His scowl deepened.

"Their defenses are too great. Their fortifications are insurmountable for my forces. However, I believe you can get through and at least make a path."

The Planeswalker's other eyebrow raised, curiosity starting to bubble.

"What makes you think I can do it?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the monarch explained.

"I may not remember everything you did to us…"

"-You're welcome, by the way-"

"…but I remember enough to recall you effortlessly dodging literally everything we could aim at you."

The prisoner smiled wide.

"Funny you put it that way, but I see what you're getting at. Yeah, I could _probably_ do what you require. How do you know I won't flee as soon as you free me?"

The king gestured to a chest beside his desk and continued in ignorance of the question.

"I have your effects here. Some faded within the first few days following our capture of you. I would apologize, but I assume it is intentional."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I know you will do this thing because I am asking you to do so. It is a minimal price to pay, and if you agree to it, I know you will not run without reason. I have spent much of the past few months puzzling the nature of your existence. It occurs to me that with no need for money or land, you are beholden to whim and honor alone. Whim brought you to me, so will your honor let you leave?"

"That's tenuous logic at best. What if I'm a sociopath?"

"Then the fight would have ended differently."

His eyebrows lowering, the Planeswalker rose to his full height and stood at the door to the small cage.

"What is so valuable to you that you would lose a prize such as myself willingly?"

"Knowledge we do not need. I want to stop them from asking."

The captive narrowed his eyes, thinking it over briefly.

"Alright, I'll do it for you."

The king motioned to a guard who bent over the lock to disengage the various magical mechanisms. With a click, the front panel came loose and lost its glow. The planeswalker stepped through it, opening the trunk and kneeling to retrieve his things. As he placed a filigree sphere at the small of his back, he looked to his captor and smiled again.

"You intrigue me. I never caught your name."

The king showed no change from his grave expression.

"Erald."

"You may call me Roz. Well, your Majesty, I think you should take me to the front."

Slamming the trunk shut, the Guards led the procession from the royal tent through the encampments, several of the soldiers they passed dropping their things and gaping at the prisoner walking free. Roz smiled casually, striding towards the killing field. The group pulled up to the edge of the range and stopped, Erald pointing out the features they had encountered thus far.

"The field is long, and the reach of the arrows should be obvious from their scattered remnants. If you can put a hole in the wall large enough to get two men through simultaneously, I can take it from there."

Roz cracked his knuckles for dramatic effect, smiling wide.

"This never gets old."

Coolly he strode into the danger zone, a lone figure framed by corpses. The guards atop the tower took note of his approach, rounding a Ballista to slow him. The massive bolt buried itself deep into the earth immediately beside Roz, who showed no interest in its sudden appearance. More of them ran to the crenellations, their bowstrings whining as they drew. Staccato twangs rang out, the cloud of points falling neatly around the 'walker, a smooth circle keeping them mysteriously at bay. As he stepped over the debris the archers tried once again, another rain of arrows missing him completely. A final attempt ended exactly as the first two, the arrows sticking halfway between Erald and the wall as the defense abandoned their weapons and readied the boiling oil.

Roz paid them no heed, looking over the wall curiously. The first pot tipped over, oil seeming to consume him but pooling around an invisible circle at his feet. As it began to cool, it slowly seeped towards him, no longer dangerous. The tried another, again unable to directly hit him. Roz reached out to the wall and rested his fingers on it, closing his eyes as he leaked an eldritch muttering.

A loud crack of thunder tore through the sky, striking behind the wall to great fanfare. Screams broke out on the other side, scuffles and cries of steel on steel betraying something deadly on the other side. One soldier came flying over the wall, landing on the ground hard enough to finish a partial bisection as his two halves rolled through the dirt away from each other. Roz turned back to the distant Erald, whispering something across the field that reached his ears undistorted.

"Watch this."

He knocked on the wall five times, punctuating it with a yell.

"HEY KORLASH!"

Thunderous crashes shook the stone as Roz stepped out of the way, the rocks and mortar exploding outward as a Zombified Knight in full platemail came crashing through, his voice resonant and deep.

"OH _YEEAAAHHHH!_"


End file.
